


Ley Lines

by Doveheart



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Complete, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Platonic, Oneshot collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:02:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 13,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doveheart/pseuds/Doveheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yda and Papalymo had a connection that they both probably took for granted, but it is something they built and cherished and nurtured. It was theirs. </p><p>A bunch of short drabbles celebrating everything that is Yda and Papalymo in no order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh my God. You're in love with her.”

Papalymo dropped the aether crystal he was holding and it shattered against the ground, “ _W-what_?!”

Moenbryda stifled a laugh, “Yda has that effect on people.”

“I have no idea what you are blathering about. I suggest we finish our work on these corrupted crystals and both be on our way.”

“Is that why your blushing?”

“ _Enough_.” He growled, turning to face the Roegadyn, “What even brought this on? Don't you know how to mind your own business?”

“You keep staring at her ass.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Moenbryda was dead.

Yda was too quiet. She was frozen and one by one everyone left the Solar. Even Minfillia left, after giving a worried glance to the Archon. Papalymo hesitated, not willing to leave Yda alone. She had put on a strong facade while the others where in the room, but Papalymo could see her slipping.

“Yda—”

She collapsed in a heap, falling to her knees. A strangled sob ripped from her lips and she rose her fists. She punched the ground hard enough that the ground—and her knuckles—cracked. Blood flowed into the stone. Papalymo jumped forward and grabbed her arm just as she brought it up to give the ground another beating.

“Yda! Look at me! Just breathe, Yda!” He shouted. She struggled for a second before allowing herself to fall limp.

“I’m sick of being _useless_!”

“You are _not_ useless.” It came out far more stern than he intended and he loosened his grip on her. 

“W-w-we weren't fast enough...”

“We could not have done _anything_ , Yda. Moebryda made her choice.”

She let out another loud sob. Papalymo cursed under his breath and then pulled her into his arms roughly. He held her tight and she clung onto him. She buried her face into his chest, crying into his robes while clawing at his back. He just held her, her head tucked under his chin.

Finally, Yda calmed. She sniffled and loosened her grip. Papalymo shifted and glanced down at her. Her mask had shifted up from her pressing her face into him and he found himself staring into her eyes. He couldn't speak.

“Papalymo?” She whispered after what felt like forever.

“W-what now?” He asked, shaking his head.

“I think my hand is broken.”

“Twelve take you, woman. Can't you ever be careful?” he cursed but a small smile curled at the corners of his lips.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yda hated having to go the Talks in Gridania.

Yda hated having to go the Talks in Gridania. She didn't like politics, that was supposed to be Papalymo's job. Yet, he was adamant that she could go alone this time. He had a bunch of work to do still at the Waking Sands. Yda hated going alone even more than she hated the actual Talks. 

Papalymo believed in her to do it herself but it was _so_ boring! Yda nearly fell asleep. There was nothing new really covered in the meeting, talk about the Empire, mentions of the Elements and everyone would occasionally look at Yda to reassure them the Scions were protecting the realm.

When it was finally over, Yda didn't think she could get out of there faster. Papalymo had promised to take her out to eat if she was able to handle the Talks alone and she was practically drooling at the thought of _real_ food. She respected all the hard work the cook at the Waking Sands did, and the food in Gridania was good — but she was sick of plants, soup and fish. A girl had to eat! And boy could Yda eat. Papalymo promised to take her to Ul'dah for a Aldgoat steak, or maybe even roasted dodo! She hoped he would let her get some dessert too.

Yda could barely contain herself when she walked into the doors of the Waking Sands. She was so excited she didn't notice Tataru missing from the front room and when she threw open the door to the basement, she called out in excitement.

“Papalymo! I'm back! Did you miss me?”

She was answered only by silence. Confused, she looked around. It was unusually dark and none of the lamps were lit. A dread started to settle in the pit of her stomach. She called out again, taking a step farther in. Her words returned to her as an echo. She glanced down at the ground and there were dark stains. She touched them. They were old; the blood since wiped up, but the stains were left as angry scars.

Panic set in.

Yda started to run, first barging into the Solar and then dashing from room to room, calling out the names of her comrades. The silence was deafening and she wanted to throw up. Only empty darkness greeted her. Her echo mocked her and she fell to the ground. She wailed loudly, not knowing what else to do.

“Yda?”

She spun around, bringing up her fists but then her face lit up, “Y'shtola!”

Y'shtola walked up to her and knelt down, “Are you okay, Yda?”

The pugilist nodded, her throat tight, “W-where is everyone?”

She wasn't able to look at Yda and took a shaky breath, “Missing, if not dead. As far as I can tell.”

“I-I-I don't understand. Dead? Missing?”

Y'shtola just nodded, “It seems we were not as safe as we thought.”

She explained how she had also just recently returned, only to find the same emptiness. Y'shtola explained how she had asked around and found out the bodies had already been taken to the Church. She said that the missing Archons were not among the bodies. Yda felt herself get lightheaded and Y'shtola grabbed her shoulder.

“Yda. Stay with me.”

The pugilist swayed and then stood shakily, “But...they...aren't dead? I mean...Papalymo...is he?”

“We will find them. I promise.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yda was still only human.

Yda had been bothering Papalymo to spar with her since they first settled into Mor Dhona. Previously, he might have obliged. He didn't mind practicing with her; she made a good training dummy and had a terrible time dodging magic. But Papalymo had his hands full since the move. There was books and scrolls to sort and put away, reports to be filed and there was the whole situation with the Doma refugees. Yda, though, never was good at taking no for an answer.

She was able to occupy herself with some of the new recruits but after besting most of the warriors, she got a reputation and they all would awkwardly deny her requests. They were all afraid of her and with good reason. The other Archons were always the only ones to ever give her a challenge, and Papalymo was notably the only one who would ever beat her. There was a reason the two were paired together in the first place.

But the lack of any form of stimulation led to her becoming quickly bored in their new home and a bored Yda was never a happy Yda.

It led to her becoming desperate for a challenge, a change, anything. Papalymo, though, continued to let her know that he was a very busy mage. It eventually lead to an argument. Anyone who knew the two of them would know that them arguing was normal; they would forgive each other soon. But this one was different. Maybe it was the stress of the new environment or the nearly physical tension of the growing primal threat.

“I've told you a dozen times, I am _busy_ , Yda,” Papalymo had raised his voice which was unusual and a few people paused to check on the two.

“Taking a break won't kill you,” Yda snapped back, which was out of character for her. It was easy to get on Papalymo's nerves but, they were both on edge since the move. She crossed her arms and frowned.

Papalymo turned to face her, “And actually doing something useful once in a while wouldn't hurt you!” He pointed at her accusingly.

An expression of pain crossed her face only briefly before stomped her foot, “I _am_ useful!” She yelled.

“Aye, useful at being horribly loud!” Papalymo yelled back, rubbing his head as he turned back to the books he was working on shelving.

Yda clenched her teeth, falling silent. She just stood there.

After a moment, Papalymo threw his hands up in the air, “You don’t have to stay. Go find someone else to bother.”

He didn't look at her when her shoulders slumped. She huffed, turning on her heels and marching out of the room.

The peace that followed would have been wonderful if the feeling of guilt hadn't crawled its way into Papalymo's gut. He could feel eyes on him and within the hour he found he couldn't concentrate in the deafening quiet.

“Fine. I get it,” he growled under his breath.

He set down the book he was hold and turned to find the missing Pugilist. After a few minutes of wandering the various rooms and asking awkwardly if anyone had seen Yda, he discovered that she had left to the Tavern. Defeated, he left the Raising Stones and entered the Seventh Heaven.

He expected to find Yda eating because that what she did when she was upset, or happy, or whenever. But after a quick look around, Papalymo found her at the bar sitting very close to another one of the establishments patrons.

A hyur male to be exact.

Papalymo was surprised at the wave of jealousy that swept over him. He had never been the jealous type and it almost knocked him over. He gritted his teeth. Yda was leaning very close to the man, her face flustered under her mask and a glass of ale in her hand. He knew Yda was never the drinking type. She got drunk too fast. She saved it for celebrations and, Papalymo bit his lip, the rare times she wanted to forget.

He walked up next to her and cleared his throat. Yda stiffened but didn't turn to him right away.

“I thought you were busy?” she set her glass down, still not looking at him. Her words were slurred slightly.

“Are you drunk?” he kept his tone even, meeting the eyes of the man next to her. The other patron looked away nervously and stood, quickly leaving.

Yda finally turned to face Papalymo, “Why? Am I bothering you way out here?” her tone was sharp.

“You are causing a scene, Yda,” he sighed, “Let's go back inside.”

Yda stood swiftly, “So I can be brushed to the side? Ignored like some lower class adventurer? I'm not just some adventurer, Papalymo! I'm a Scion. An Archon! Hand picked by Louisoix! Just like you, just like Y'shtola. I studied in Sharlayan too! You can't just treat me like I'm below you because I don't specialize in the same areas as you!” she let her shoulders slump and shook her head. The whole tavern had fallen silent and Yda grabbed her glass — downing the rest of the contents. She wiped her mouth and turned to leave.

Papalymo caught her wrist.

“Did I bring this on?” he asked, meekly.

She sighed, “No. It wasn't you. I just...The rumors.”

He knew. He heard them too. Ever since the Scions had come out into the open about everything they did, rumors were unavoidable. The were everywhere, and the ones about Yda were no different, but Papalymo always thought her too strong, too confident, to listen. But that was foolish of him; Yda was still only human.

“Don't listen to them. They don't know you, Yda. They don't know that you trained almost every warrior here. Do they know you managed to actually land a physical blow to the Black Wolf? Every title you've been give; you've earned. Scion, Archon, and even Savior of the Twelveswood.”

She laughed but there was a sarcastic tinge to it. He tugged on her wrist.

“Come on, Yda. I believe I owe you a training match.”

She looked at him, shocked, before she smiled, “I'm gonna beat you this time!”

“Aye. I will 'ware your drunken fists.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they sparred, it was like they were the only ones in the world.

Yda had gotten better at dodging spells and that was one of the only reasons Papalymo continued to put up with her repeated requests for spars. He could read her like no else and she could read him just the same. He would be lying if he said their duels weren't invigorating. The adrenaline and the knowledge that neither of them had to hold back was something that they could only get from each other.

It could go on for hours and it would only feel like seconds. They could lose themselves to it. It was natural and sometimes Papalymo forgot why he would turn her down so much. When they were sparing, he could forget about his work. There was only them, only Yda.

Seeing her smile was just a bonus. A very wonderful bonus.

Papalymo dodged her jab, jumped back and rose his staff. Yda barely tumbled away from the lightning strike. She laughed and he couldn't help but laugh with her. She started to charge him again and he launched a fireball.

It hit her. Her head jerked back, she skidded to a stop. Her mask clattered to the ground somewhere behind her. It echoed around them and time seemed to stop. Yda regained herself quickly though, the look of shock on her face easing as she grinned. Papalymo met her eyes.

He never got used to them. The endless blue like the purest of Aether. His breath got stuck in his throat. He felt his face turn red. He lost himself in her eyes.

Papalymo didn't even have a chance to comprehend that she was still running at him. It was a quick punch and he stumbled to the ground, grunting.

Yda laughed, standing over him. “Looks like I win this ti—”

A swift kick to her legs and she tumbled down with him with a help. He jumped up and wiped the small trickle of blood from his lips.

“Let's call this one a tie,” he grumbled, not looking at her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papalymo is very, very drunk.

“Yda...”

A giggle, “What?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Are you not?”

Papalymo pauses. He has to think about it. His head is hazy. Yda is in his lap. The room is dark, humid and much too tight. He can't remember how much he had to drink. He can barely remember how they got here. It started as a celebration. There were a lot of drinks; the expensive alcohols from Ul'dah. Yda's favorite. She convinced him to drink. Papalymo never drank but Yda smiled and he couldn't say no. He remembers her laughing, stumbling over herself because she always get so inebriated so fast. Everyone was talking to her; talking about her. He may have gotten jealous.

Yda is very close to him. He can't remember why they were celebrating. Outside of the room there is still loud commotion of the party. Papalymo thinks she was the one who grabbed his hand and dragged him in here, but it could have been him tugging on her. It had just been so loud and he just wanted Yda to himself.

He can feel Yda's skin under his hands but he can't comprehend even where his hands are on her. She is everywhere at once; her smell and taste. Did he kiss her or did she kiss him?

“I may have had a bit too much to drink,” He admits.

Her hands are under his robes, touching his skin and leaving goosebumps. She is leaning over him with her forehead pushed against his and he wishes he could just see her eyes. The celebration. He closes his eyes; trying to remember but her touch is overwhelming. Celebrating what? Celebrating _Yda_. No. Not quite. It was something else. Papalymo rolls his head back and Yda is kissing his neck. He tightens his hands. They're on her hips, he realizes. She smells strongly of ale — the good, expensive kind.

Papalymo is very, very drunk but he wants to kiss her. Cheers break out from the other room and Papalymo jumps.

Yda laughs, “When do you think they will realize that I'm not there anymore?”

“What?”

“It's my birthday party and we're locked in this closet together.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Do you ever think we should just stop this?”

It's a question that takes Papalymo's breath away and all at once he feels like his chest is being crushed. He fumbles with his staff for a second, nearly dropping it. He is running on fumes, depending on the cool of ice and the blast of heat that flows through his veins. He can barely pay attention. He wants to sleep.

“You are asking that _now?_ ” He tries to keep his concentration on the advancing Brass Blades. He barely dodges a fist and retaliates with a fireball. Yda always finds the worst times to ask the deepest questions. They are fighting for their life. They are fighting for the time that their comrades need.

“Well, you know, if we do die here, I just want you to know I have no regrets,” Yda swings another punch. It hits it mark but with each enemy that falls, more join the fray. She is worse than him — bloody and beaten but there is a beauty in her. He can see the way her legs shake, though, and the way she winces. They can't go on like this for much longer.

Papalymo grabs her hand, “Let's not think about that now because no matter what, we are going to survive.” She turns to face him and he slams his staff into the ground. The flash of light that follows is blinding.

Yda laughs as they run. “We need a name for it!”

Papalymo is panting as they cut the corners close, looking for anyway out of the city. The feel of stone scraps his arms, “For what?”

“Us, Papalymo! What do we even tell the others?”

“There is a name, Yda. We're partners but that's not going to matter if we can't get out of here!” He grits his teeth. He wished she would shut up for once. They were running for their life — not really a time to contemplate their relationship.

Yda glances back behind them quickly and then back up at the night sky. What a terrible way to end a banquet and she didn't even get to try the steak! She suddenly stops, jerking Papalymo down a side alley with her.

“I love you! But I'm not in love with you!” Yda exclaims, turning to look at him. Her ribs ache; her heart aches. Papalymo is drawn back but he glances down the alley. This is not the way he ever wanted them to spill their hearts to each other. The sound of running footsteps pass them. He squeezes her hands and then they are running again. They can see the gates of Ul'dah just ahead.

“You don't need to be,” Papalymo growls from the back of his throat because she can always put into words what he feels and they are always on the same page even when he feels like hes drowning in her, “It doesn't need a name. We are us.”

And that is enough.  


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The realization settles into Papalymo's gut like a knife — Yda can bleed and Yda can die.

As you held me down, you said:

"I'll see you in the future when we're older  
And we are full of stories to be told.  
Cross my heart and hope to die,  
I'll see you with your laughter lines."

-Laughter Lines by Bastille

 

While fighting Ixal was not new to either of them, the vigor the beast-men showed after summoning their Primal was surprising. Yda and Papalymo hadn't been able to help during the first summoning of Garuda but now they were helping hold the Ixal back while the Warrior of Light took out the Primal.

The Ixal themselves were in a fervor but the two Archons trusted that their Warrior would finish the task quickly. They weren't worried, even if the cold did seem to slow Yda's punches. Papalymo is calm as he works on attacking with spells. He keeps his distance and his eyes straight ahead. He can see Yda out of the corner of his eyes. Her moves on the battlefield were unrivaled and he couldn't keep up with her motions as she did cartwheels and somersaults. What Yda lacked in social tact, she made up for in fighting grace.

Papalymo makes sure she isn't overwhelmed and Yda makes sure they don't get too close to him. She flips over his fireballs and swerves past his ice. They know each others' movements before they even make them. Papalymo falls into his well-practiced pattern of ice and fire, throwing in a few thunder spells here and there. There are many Ixal and it almost feels like they won't stop coming — but it is to be expected this close to Garuda.

Papalymo glances at Yda. He smiles at her but something is off. The snow under her is red; her knees dip slightly. Papalymo turns fully to look at her, wondering if he eyes are playing tricks on him. A Ixal's arrow hits home in her thigh and then Papalymo is running. Yda punches the Ixal nearest to her and swings her leg around to kick another. She buckles; her leg gives out. The snow she kicks up blinds the attackers while Papalymo gets to her.

“Yda! Are you okay?” He grabs her, pulls her up from the snow. There is blood everywhere and he scans her body trying to find the start. A large gash up her side, puckered and tore skin — a flash of white bone.

“I'm fine, Papalymo!” She snarls through gritted teeth but he vision is blurring and her body is shaking. Papalymo takes down a beast-man behind her with a spell.

“Twelve be good, woman, you're tore to shreds! Why didn't you say anything?!” The blood warms his hands and he shrugs off his robes to cover the large wound. He can't look at it and he tries to mask the shake in his voice. He curses and glances behind him. The Ixal have turned away from them and their attention is diverted.

When he turns back to Yda, a layer of sweat has broken out over her skin and her eyes and twisted shut. His hands glow slightly but his healing magic can't mend this. It does, however, ease her pain. There is a commotion behind him but Papalymo keeps his attention on Yda. Her breathing is shallow.

“Don't you dare die on me, Yda,” he whispers and for the first time in his life he is afraid that he might lose her. Yda has always been so strong and seemed invincible. She could mask her emotions with a smile at the drop of a hat and although she is often bruised and cut, she never shows any sign of being _mortal_. But they are Archons, not gods. The realization settles into Papalymo's gut like a knife — Yda can bleed and Yda can _die._

The laugh that bubbles from Yda's lips breaks his heart. It is wet and more blood than anything.

“Always worrying, Papalymo...” her breath rattles in her lungs. She attempts to stand and Papalymo can't believe her stubbornness. She manages to get to her feet but as she tries to take her fighting pose, she snarls in pain. “You act like I won't be around to make fun of your stupid grey hair and ugly wrinkles when we're old...” Yda laughs again and her body quivers with the effort. She collapses again almost instantly and he tries to catch her, but she's too heavy for him. They both tumble to snow and she groans loudly.

“What made you think that was a good idea?!” Papalymo growls but when he looks down Yda's eyes are closed and her breathing shudders. He tugs her so he can hold her head up to prevent more blood from getting into her lungs and shivers. Papalymo's robes are stuck to her skin by nearly nothing but her own blood and he suddenly realizes how cold it is. He hears someone call out to him and turns carefully not to move Yda too much. The Warrior of Light is running up to them.

“We have to get her out of here.”

Papalymo nods and grabs a hold of the Warrior's arm as they cast their return spell. Together, the three of them feel the weightlessness of the teleportation take hold.

-

Papalymo finds himself sitting outside Yda's room for hours on end. Missions for him don't come in and he is cramped up in the base. Y'shtola assures him she will make a full recovery — with time. Papalymo is usually patient but Yda hasn't even woken up after a week. It is pathetic really, to see the lalafell with his back pressed to the door and his head laying in his knees. He can't bring himself to actually stay in the room for more time than needed to check on her. He hates seeing her like that; he hates remembering how finite life is.

His head hurts; he misses Yda's voice and her ill-timed jokes.

-

In another week, Yda wakes up. Papalymo had fallen asleep with his head on his knees outside of her door. He hears a hiss from the inside of the room and he almost thinks he's dreaming again. He stands, nearly falls because his legs have gone numb and stumbles into the room.

Yda laughs when she sees him but then she winces. A broken rib but the tissue damage and blood lose was what did it. Her eyes are wide and blue but her hair is a mess. There are bandages nearly all over her upper body and where there is skin — there is bruises.

“Yda,” his voice trembles and he could cry.

“Oh, don't look so surprised. I can't let you grow old without me.”


	9. Chapter 9

After a practically hard fight, Papalymo finds Yda tending to her wounds. She is bad at first aid and her bandages are lose and messy. He watches her struggle for a few and then sits down the her cot next to her. He grabs the bandages from her and scoots behind her as he starts to clean the worst of the cuts she can't reach first. His hands linger a bit too long and she notices.

“I'm okay.” She reassures him, looking at him over her shoulder.

He frowns, tracing a large gash with his finger. She winces. He would lying if he said he didn't want to be reminded that they are both still alive. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around her waist and just presses his face to her back. He can hear her breathe — feel her heart beat. They are alive.

“Sometimes...I just think you're invincible. I forgot that we're only human.”

She laughs, “Well, the only way I'm gonna die before you is if you bore me to death.”

“You wound me! Everyone knows you'll be the death of _me,_ ” He scoffs, looking offended.  


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I met this really awesome Papalymo Roleplayer who headcanons Papalymo as demiromantic (which I have been rolling over in my head also) and decided it was finally time to hurt myself this aromantic Yda / (demi)romantic Papalymo.

> Just a flock of birds  
> That's how you think of love
> 
> And I always  
> Look up to the sky  
> Pray before the dawn
> 
> \- O by Coldplay

 

Most days Papalymo didn't let it bother him; Yda's presence is what mattered. It didn't bother him because maybe he didn't want to admit it or because it never bothered Yda. But at the end of the day, when the sun sets in Little Ala Mhigo — Papalymo loves Yda.

At first he had tried to ignore it. He had never been one to fall in love. His work came first, always. But Yda... Yda was an anomaly, something he never prepared himself for. He had hated her, hated that they had to be paired together and hated that he needed her. But with having to learn to read her and work with her — he got to know her, got close to her and learned more about her than he knew about anyone else. And that is when he fell. It had taken time, years even, but now his heart aches. He didn't need to tell her; they didn't need to exchange words. She knows and he knows her.

It doesn't bother him, most days, but there are bad days. The days of soft touches and tight chests. He wants to say 'I love you'. He wants to hear _her_ say 'I love you'. Everyone has bad days, Papalymo is no different. The bad days are rare but since their escape to Ala Mhigo they are more frequent. Papalymo is irritable and he takes it out on Yda. He wants to go home; he know they can't. Deep down he knows Yda wants to go home too but right know all he can see is her playing hero with the Ala Mhigans.

“And do you really think we can take back Ala Mhigo just like that, Yda? Did you even think this through? We need to find the others.”

She won't turn to look at him — she is leaning over a table covered with scattered maps, battle plans and letters. “If we don't help them fight the Garleans now, then when?” she snaps back. He had been reprimanding her all day.

“We will get Ala Mhigo back! Just not now. We can't just run away from everything else.”

She turns, not meeting his eyes, “The others have never shown any interest in doing this. Not even Minfilia! We have to do this without them, or not at all! Don't you care about the Ala Mhigan's plight? Is there home not part of the Eorzea we're sworn to protect?!”

Papalymo throws his hands up in the air, “That isn't what I meant at all!”

“Then what, Papalymo?! What did you mean?!”

“Ye gods, Yda! Aren't even a little bit worried about what happens to our companions?! To the Warrior of Light?”

“Of Course!”

“Then why are we still standing around here planning to go to war with the Garleans _again_?”

Yda pauses, chewing at her lip. Her voice is low when she speaks again, “Do you remember the vow we took when we got our marks?”

Papalymo is taken aback and glares at her, “I don't see how—”

She interrupts him, “ _Dawn may banish even the darkest nights_.”

Papalymo looks away and grits his teeth, “ _Yet ever shall primal desires burn_. Aye, Yda, I _know_.”

“Then why is this even up for debate?!”

Papalymo closes the distance between them and jabs his finger at her chest, “Because this is dangerous, Yda! This is absurd! We cannot possibly do this alone!”

“We won't know unless we try!”

“ _No_!” He snaps, “I don't want to lose you! I can't lose you!”

She growls, “If we can't do our one duty alone, why are we even fit to be Scions?!So, why does that even matter?! ”

“Because _I love you_ , Yda!” He shouts and then freezes. A silence. Yda stares at him and Papalymo's shoulders fall. He takes a deep breath and turns to leave. She won't reply in kind and really he doesn't even want to heart it anymore. It just wouldn't be Yda that way. It wouldn't be the Yda he fell in love with.

“Papalymo...” she reaches for his wrist and he tries to shake her off.

“Don't.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Papalymo meets her eyes and without her mask he can see them clearly. They shine in the dim light and he does love her. He loves her so much. And she loves him too. He can see that. He gives her hand a squeeze and she tugs him into a hug.

“We have our work cut out for us, don't we?” he sighs into her embrace, returning it by tightening his hands into the fabric of her shirt.

“You worry too much,” she mumbles into his hair. He chuckles and at the end of the day, what they have is enough. Papalymo wouldn't change it for the world. There is no need to over-complicate it. At the end of the day, they are Yda and Papalymo. They are one in the same and there will never be a word strong enough to explain what they have.  


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for prompt: "Why can't you see what three little words have done to me?"

And sometimes, early in the morning when Yda sits on the edge of her bed, still half asleep, she thinks maybe she isn’t good enough for Papalymo. She wants to go back to sleep but he would come banging on her door soon, telling her she would miss breakfast if she didn’t get up. 

Yda loves everyone, too much but also too little. There is a feeling that she hides well, a feeling that bloomed and spread when Papalymo finally yelled ‘I love you!’ She loves him too! But not like he wants, not like he needs. Her knees shake and she wants to, oh Twelve, does she want to. She can’t reply in same and it crushes her and him. Why couldn’t she just find the words? He’s the one that’s good with words, not her and she hates it. The three words have torn her apart and he doesn’t know. She won’t tell him and she will mask it well. Sometimes, he sees through her. She has bad days where her confidence falters. She wants to prove herself, to everyone, to Papalymo. 

Yda is selfish. She doesn’t want to lose him; she won’t. She loves him, even if she isn’t in love with him. It is enough, she hopes, because she could not even imagine a time without him making her heart flutter and swell. When he smiles at her, she feels at peace. At home. Maybe she could say just that but she feels he knows already. She hates wasting her breath on words when he already knows. Yet, he deserves to hear it, just once. There is a knock at her door and Papalymo’s voice calls out to, irritated. She opens the door and grins at him. It takes him by surprise and he steps back.

“What’s for breakfast?” she asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Dodo omelettes. Again.” He grumbles and he knows something is wrong. He looks up at her and she looks away.

“My favorite!” Her voice raises in excitement and she reaches down to intertwine their fingers. Today will not be the day she finally opens up to him. She will not bare her heart to him, not yet, even if he has done the same. She can’t let her walls down. It hurts them both. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for prompt: "Hours passed and she still counts the minutes that I am not there. I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this, like every inch of me is bruised."
> 
> Takes place in the Primal AU, directly after Astraphobia.

Yda was desperate for some reason to continue on after it was all said and done - after she wiped the blood from Papalymo’s lips and laid his body down. Garuda gave her one. 

There was a pause, tense and Yda didn’t know whether to fight or run. The Primal looked weak, maybe even scared. She wanted Yda’s help and Yda was so blinded by the pain and realization that Papalymo was gone (-oh twelve, he was gone, actually gone what have you done) that she didn’t see the smirk curl at the edges of Garuda’s lips. 

Yda took her taloned hand. 

The wind twisted around them like a tornado and Garuda dug her claws into Yda’s hand when she tried to pull away. The wind whipped around her and sliced her skin. Yda found she couldn’t yell, couldn’t move. Garuda kept a hold on her hand, but Yda’s knees were knocked out from under her in the force of the wind. Yda falls - Yda kneels. 

The wind fades and her head rings with the sound of Garuda’s laugh. Then, nothing. Garuda is gone; the wind is gone. The rubble of the building she had been in had been blown open, leaving her a path out. Yda knows then, there is no turning back. There is nothing but a primitive need to protect this land - her home. To go to war and to achieve vengeance. Time in the Ultima Weapon had left Garuda weak. She needed a vessel.

Yda, or what was left of Yda, stood. And in the distance, lighting flashed. Ramuh watched, unmoving. A pair of Sylphs retrieve Papalymo’s body. Ramuh cradles the broken lalafell like he is a child.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: "Where were you when my walls came falling down? You stood close by, and didn't make a sound. Say something."

And Yda wanted nothing more than Papalymo to say something. Anything. But he didn’t. Papalymo was at a loss for words. Never had he seen Yda so heartbroken - so devastated. 

No one could believe Moenbryda was dead. It left them all shocked and hurt. But most of all, it changed Yda. She wouldn’t eat for days and words that usually came so naturally to Papalymo didn’t come at all. He watched her break; listened to her cry but he couldn’t bring himself to reach out to. He was too in shock. Yda had always been the strongest one of all the Scions. After everything she had been through, she was always the last to break. But now, she shattered. 

Papalymo tried to make her favorite foods, even offer to spar with her, but none of it was enough to pull her up from the hole she fell into. Finally, when he was out of ideas and they both kept to themselves. Urianger brought Moenbryda’s axe to Papalymo. It had been shined and sharpened. They had given it to him so that he could keep it but he said Moenbryda would have hated it to just be hung on a wall. “It was made for fighting!” she’d say. “And that’s what it’s going be used for!”

Papalymo couldn’t stop thanking Urianger and the other Archon just shook his head - broken as much as Yda but he had his own way to heal. Papalymo could barely lift the axe so instead he set in the room they used for spars and went to fetch Yda. She followed him, but kept silent and it broke his heart. Finally, he got to the door and stopped. 

“Close your eyes, Yda. And no cheating just because I can’t tell with that mask of yours!”

Yda looked at him questionly, but followed orders. The door creaked open and Papalymo led her by the hand to the center of the room and stopped her right in front of the axe laid on display. 

“Open them.”

She did and when he eyes focused, her legs nearly gave out.

“I-is that? Twelve…”

Papalymo nodded. A tear ran down her cheek and she touched the steel softly, wrapping her hands around the grip. She lifted it with no problem. The axe was definitely too big for her but she would make do. 

“I hear the marauders guild in Limsa is recruiting,” Papalymo says, watching her in awe as she played with the axe. She held it like a natural. Like it was a part of her. Yda looked at him and smiled, a true, real smile. The first one in days. She nodded and they set out. It would be a healing experience, but Yda always did heal better when there were enemies to be fought. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skarn is a good rp friend of mine so this was a gift to them after they finished the main scenario.

It is late afternoon when Papalymo is gone on a mission that Yda finds Skarnshyr swinging her ax in the crystal fields of Mor Dhona. Missions for Yda have been scarce, maybe because they are worried about her mental state since Moenbryda’s death. She would be lying if she said she missed the tasks themselves, but she did miss the distraction they gave. She decides to seek help from someone else. Someone who understood Moen like she did.

Yda watches Skarn silently for a few moments; Moenbryda’s ax held close to her own chest. Then, slowly, she approaches the Sea Wolf. Skarn hears her come up behind her and lodges her weapon into the dirt to lean on it. She turns slightly to face Yda, wiping sweat on the back of her arm. And Skarn is trying to forget too.

“What brings ya here, lil firecracker?”

“Maybe I can bother you for a lesson or two?” Yda smiles but it’s sad. Skarn takes in the ax in her hands and at first she doesn’t know what to do.

Skarn had never really considered herself a teacher but she couldn’t turn down the Archon. It gives them both something else to focus on. Yda learns quickly, Skarn finds out, especially when it comes to combat. She is amazed the little hyur can even lift the ax. She excels quickly and within days, she’s ready for spars. She fights dirty; she fights like a Roegadyn.

But Skarnshyr _is_ a Roegadyn and Skarn fights like Moenbryda.

Their axes clash loudly and Skarn sees something flash through Yda’s eyes. When she swings, her muscles flex and Yda remembers everything she had been trying to forget. Yda remembers falling to the ground and clinging to Moen’s lifeless body; Yda remembers breaking her hand against the stone floor in rage. She remembers first feeling the weight of the ax and she remembers Moenbryda’s voice. She can smell the ale that was always on her breath and the smell of dirt when they buried her.

It’s a flash — memories of everything and everyone. And Yda was always so strong but Yda is still only human. Yda hesitates; Skarn knocks the weapon from her hands and it flies to the side. Yda nearly tumbles down to the ground but the Sea Wolf catches her arm.

“I-I’m sorry!” Yda exclaims, attempting to go retrieve the ax. Skarn holds her tight and a tear drips down Yda’s cheek from under her mask.

Skarn shakes her head, loosens her grip, “Nah. I…think we’re done for now. How ‘bout we get a drink?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift for my Papalymo rper

Yda never gave a real last name. It became a running joke for those that knew her. Sometimes she would give at least a realistic name to those who asked, but other times she wouldn’t even try. It wasn’t a question she wanted to answer seriously but that didn’t stop people from asking. And as much as she loved parties, that was the most common place for it to happen. She had put up with the male Miqo'te thus far because he had been bringing her food but at this point he was rather intoxicated and she just wanted to go back and join the others.

“So what can I call you?”

“Yda.”

“Yda…What?” he seemed purr and it made her sigh. She really didn’t know why last names were such a big deal. She met Papalymo’s eyes from across the room. He saw her and wrinkled his brow in worry. A sly smirk curled at the corners of her lips and she turned back to the Miqo'te.

“Talymo.”

“W-what?”

“My name. Yda Talymo.”

She had never seen Papalymo’s jump up so fast to stop her.


	16. Chapter 16

Yda had never been called beautiful before Papalymo. The first time he said it — it had been an accident and he just blurted it out one day when she was taking off her mask to clean the blood from her face. She laughed at him.

“I'm not beautiful! I'm a warrior!”

Papalymo blushed; he doesn't call her beautiful again for a long time. He thought it, of course, but he doesn't get the courage to actually tell her she's beautiful again until he first sees her in her wedding dress. She is flustered and angry but his words get caught in his mouth.

“Isn't she beautiful?” One of the Weaver's helping with the dress fitting asks.

Papalymo nods and she meets his eyes, “Aye... Beautiful indeed,” he hadn't realize he has said the words aloud but this time Yda doesn't laugh at him. She looks away and he swears he can see a blush start to tint her cheeks under her mask.

Yda catches him after she is back into her normal outfit. Her grip on his arm is tight at first before she loosens. He can't see her eyes but her face seems flustered. She seems scared.

“Yda?”

She barely realizes he has spoken before she starts speaking, her words fast and almost slurred, “Did you mean that?”

“Mean what?” Papalymo is lost.

She shifts, awkwardly, uncomfortable, “You called me beautiful.”

He blinks, “I...” he has to look away, “Yes. Of course.”

Yda looks down and falls silent. Papalymo realizes that Yda, dispute her confidence in herself, didn't think highly of her feminine qualities. It hurts his heart and he wants to reach out to her, but can't. He doesn't compliment her again until after the wedding when he finds she hidden out back away from people, her headpiece in her hand.

She speaks first, “You know... I've always been afraid people would see my Third Eye before they...saw _me_.”

Papalymo grabs her hand and she drops the headpiece. She looks at him, “You're you, Yda. That Third Eye will never change that.”

“You never stare at it. You've always look at me like like a person, not a _Garlean_.”

“I love _you_. That won't change.”

Yda bends down and picks him up in her arms. She presses her forehead to his, “Papalymo, you're beautiful!”

“ _Me_?!” He laughs, “I think that's my line!”

 


	17. Chapter 17

And before Sharlayan fell, Yda found a cave. It was where she went to hide. She paid close attention to her studies, of course, and no one could match her in spars — except Papalymo. But sometimes...she just needed to escape. It was a small cave, above a waterfall and it overlooked the river. Her favorite part was the bioluminescent mushrooms that grew there. She didn't know if they were natural or an escaped specimen from the Arboretum but there was something comforting about their soft glow and the sound of the water.

She struggled sometimes when it came to reading and learning and some of the teachers gave her a hard time. She didn't usually let it get to her, but one afternoon, while walking back from the Library with Papalymo, they overhead a conversation.

“...They let her slack off too much because she's one of Louisoix's...pets.”

“She earned her Sage Mark. That should be enough.”

“If you ask me, she shouldn't have. Papalymo deserves a better partner.”

Yda had paused briefly, her face twisted. Rumors were nothing new to her. Papalymo glanced at her and jerked his head to motion for them to continue walking. He let his face express his worry.

“Let me show you something,” Yda said, looking down at him. She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the side of the cliff, “Down here!” She hoisted herself over the ledge, her hands holding onto the edge as she swung herself into the cave.

Papalymo hear the sound of splashing and he rushed after her. “Yda!”

She poked her head out and looked up at him. She reached her hand up. “Jump! I'll catch you!”

He looked at her in shock but when she laughed, he couldn't help but trust her. He struggled a bit to position himself slightly off the cliff's edge and Yda just watched for a few moments before just grabbing him and tugging him down. The two of them tumbled back into the water and Papalymo jumped up quickly to scold her. His words were lost, though, when he saw the cave. The way it glowed and the water reflected everything. He just found himself staring.

Yda had perched herself up on a rock and patted the spot next her. He climbed up and sat down. They were silent as she laid down with her head in her lap. From the cave entrance they could see the stars and soon she started naming the different constellations for him. She had been paying attention. Papalymo couldn't help but stare at her instead of all the stars she was pointing at.

At that moment, that waterfall become their spot and there was nothing else in the world but them.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100 Suns by Thirty Seconds to Mars is a sad song.

When you get right down to it: there is nothing left to believe in.

The fact of the matter is _(as the Archons have learned so so so well)_ worshiping and believing breeds Primals. Of all kinds. It is a knowledge that leaves them reeling, rasping at something — anything but they are left only with dirt under their nails and words stuck in their throats. The world is not as black and white as they once thought. Even the Twelve, the gods they turned to at any given moment because _'let us be powerful like Rhalgr and knowledge like Thaliak'_. It was these prayers that give birth to a Primal in the first place. The manifestations of fate knew no difference between beast or man. A primal would come — with enough power and enough prayer. It was this needy breath, the words on Yda's lips when she tires to fight though her lungs burn and the light that Thancred keeps in his eyes when everything else is dark. These gave strength to a Primal. And Y'shtola's tight grip on her wand as she whispers a spell and Papalymo asking for just a bit more strength to finish a cast. These gave strength to a Primal.

The Twelve will kill this world just as the Primals.

And so the Archons, so set upon protecting Eorzea _(and that is that their only job, the only thing they know)_ set aside their ideas of gods and primals and they instead look to each other.

Because when you get right down to it: there is nothing left but each other. But there is no comfort there. No comfort in knowing the Garlean Empire was right.

 


	19. Chapter 19

And the word 'home' was so strange to Yda. Was home where she was born or the first place she felt safe after all her years? The smell of Ceruleum or the smell of griffins? Could it be Sharlayan where most of her years were spent hunched over books, fingertips smeared with ink and body sore from spars. Maybe then it's the green of Shroud and feel of safety beneath the canopy of the tress. Perhaps it was the Waking Sands but that stopped feeling like a home when the bloodstains wouldn't lift from the floor and walls. The Rising Stones — they were just starting to feel safe when everything fell apart.

Yda wonders, knees pulled up to her face and ankles wet, if it is her fault that every place she ever thought of calling home is gone. She looks out across the rubble, of what is left of Sharlayan spread across the Hinterlands and thinks maybe she brings destruction wherever she goes. A sigh.

She's in her cave and she is missing something, somewhere. This is her safe spot and she has many of them: the dark corner in the back of an Ala Mhigan tavern, the cool morning air near the Life Mend Stump, the stacked boxes of the Waking Sands and her room back at the Rising Stones. But this place was the only one she could still get to _(-but how she craved the smell of the Shroud)_ and she didn't realize how much she missed it until she found it again.

Maybe this was home then. Not really Sharlayan, but this small waterfall cave. What a sad home, she thinks and closed her eyes. She leans back, hands pressed to the cold stone under her. What a sad home.

Yda jerks her head up when she feels a hand on hers and she hadn't heard Papalymo come in. Her mask has been pushed up to her forehead from leaning against her knees and Papalymo meets her eyes with a soft smile. She glances down at their hands and he gives hers a squeeze. Their fingers interlace and she can't help but smile at him.

“I thought you were looking for some tome,” she whispers.

“Bah, I can't very well go wandering off alone. Who would protect me if I were to get into trouble?”

Yda laughs, light and happy, tugging Papalymo close, “We both know you keep me out of trouble!”

“That was the joke, darling.”

A pause and Papalymo looks away, blushing.

“I still need a nickname for you.”

“You really don't, actually,” Papalymo frowns, looking back up at her. His face is still flustered and he reached out to pull her mask back in place for her. A simple gesture since he knows how much she hates it when it gets out of place. Yda grabs his wrist, pulling it to her mouth and placing a kiss to his open palm. She meets his eyes and then leans back suddenly, pulling him into her lap.

“Wait! I've got it!”

“Got what?!” He scrambles to try and compose himself after the moment, grabbing hold of her arm for balance.

“ _Soulmate_ ,” and Yda's voice is thick, the word leaving her lips in Garlean, not Eorzean. Papalymo stares at her for a few moments trying to wrap his head around what she had said. His grasp on the Garlean language was shaky at best and he was amazed that after all these years, Yda still knew it.

“E-excuse me?” He knows the general meaning but he is afraid he misheard her. His blush deepens.

“Your nickname!”

“Y-your nickname for me is the Garlean word for S-soulmate?!” he is stumbling over his words and Yda leans in close, her forehead touching his.

“Isn't that what we are?” She whispers, closing her eyes. Their breath mixes together and Papalymo thinks his heart may jump out of his throat. It was what they were. It was the perfect word to describe them.

“I...I would think something more like... _Home_ ,” his Garlean is more rusty than hers and the word sounds strange to her ears but she understands.

“ _Home_...” She repeats, not trying to correct him but rather wanting to feel the word on her tongue.

He is her home and the word home is no longer strange to Yda. Home is no longer sad.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Yda tries a new profession, mainly an Aesthetician.

Yda did everything to help Skarnsyhr while she was blind. Really, they all did, but Yda likes to pretend she helped the most. She helped Skarn get dressed and take baths and after a few days of trying to do Skarn’s hair, Yda offered to give her a haircut. Anyone else probably would have turned her down.

“Just to make it easier to take care of while you’re…” Yda made an exaggerated hand gesture but blushed when she realized Skarn couldn’t see it so instead made some ‘wooshing’ noises. The roegadyn laughed.

“I guess I can trust ye.”

And maybe that was a mistake.

It ended up with Skarn having a very messy and choppy hairstyle. Yda, though, was a proud but Papalymo wouldn’t stop scolding her. Skarn didn’t understand what the big deal was — being blind and all but when her vision finally came back and they asked her again, she smiled so wide they thought her face would crack.

“I love it!”

Yda clapped her hands together and then stuck her tongue out at Papalymo. Later, someone would pull Skarn to the side and ask if she really liked it or if she was just saying that for Yda’s sake. Skarn laughed in their face. Of course she loved it! It was unique, easy to take care of and _hot as hell_.

It was a few days later that Yda found Skarn. Yda was holding a pair of scissors in her hands and met Skarn’s green eye.

“Can you return the favor?” She asked.

Skarn smirked, “What would ye like?”

Yda grabbed her headpiece in her hand, fisting the fabric in her hands, “To the hells with what everyone else wants. I’m sick of hiding.” Skarnsyhr understood.

A few inches of hair, laughing and snips later, Yda’s hair was short and slicked back. It was easier to tuck under her turban and most of all, she had no bangs to hide her third eye behind. 

Because in the end, it was more than just a haircut for the both of them. It was about acceptance. Skarn was more than her inner beasts; Skarn was fearless. And Yda was so much more than her third eye.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight Spoilers for Patch 3.2

Yda hates the desert. Dust and sand everywhere — in her lungs, her hair and sticking to her sweaty skin. She tries to wipe it from her face but only makes a bigger mess. She is stressed and tense. She wants a solution. She wants to go home, to the Rising Stones, to Gridania, to Ala Mhigo. To anywhere that isn't endless sands and heatwaves. She has been working day and night. Papalymo is worried about her. She is always so so trusting. She hadn't learned from the Crystal Braves and he knew it wasn't out her being naive, no, he knows her better than that. She is growing desperate and had been for a very long time. They had made a vow to take Ala Mhigo back and now they had time and, seeminly, the resources to do so with the Masks.

“Caution, Yda — that is all I ask! Do not be so eager to place your faith in them. Not until we know more.”

She looks down at him, dirty and exhausted. She tries to push her hair out of her face. He crosses his arms, glancing away. He knows her intentions are for the best and he is stressed too. He chews at the inside of his cheek.

“Mayhaps we should retire for the night,” he offers when she remains silent. Guilt always sets in when she is quiet. She is usually fast to offer some sort of optimism to cheer him up when he gets snippy but right now, she offers none, instead mulling over his words.

And he is right, she knows and he knows she knows. Yda wants everything to go right just for once _(-oh Rhalgr give us war and give us victory)_. There is the taste of dust in her mouth and she can feel a rock in her boots.

“I need a bath,” she says quickly.

“It is late. I am sure you can go bathe in peace.” Papalymo is dirty too and more than a bit sore. The journey to Lost Hope had not been easy on either of them. There is a short silence.

“Join me?” Yda's voice is uncharacteristically meek. Papalymo's ears darken and he looks up at her. She gives him an awkward sort of smile. “It will help both of us, I think.”

And he has to agree that the cool water would help soothe his aching bruises too. He sighs, as if she is asking him some huge favor but then smiles back at her.

“If I must.”

She grins widely, turning on her heels towards the bathing spots near the refugee camp. As Papalymo guessed, everyone else is asleep and they are alone. Papalymo lights a few lamps but for the most part the stars and moon light up the secluded spot. He hesitates then, acting like he is paying attention to one of the lamps. Yda strips down quickly and he can hear her toss aside her clothing. His face flusters. He hears the splash of water and glances back timidly. She has sank herself into the cool water with a sigh. Her head is tossed back against the rocks, her blonde hair damp and sprayed across the stone. He bites his lip.

Yda opens her eyes and looks over at him, “Come on, then! Look, there's even a rock here so its not too deep for you,” she chuckles.

Papalymo curses under his breath and with his back still turned to her, he sheds his clothing and slips into the water. With himself perched on the rock next to Yda, the watcher comes up to his shoulders. The water is warmer than the cooling night air and it helps undo their knotted muscles. He hisses as it stings cuts he didn't know he had but quickly it eases and a sound of relaxation escapes his lips. The two of them just sit in silence for a while and Yda leans down to put her head on Papalymo's shoulder. It is the first time they had actually had time to themselves in a long time. Since before they had escaped Ul'dah and the Brass Blades.

Papalymo reaches out to push Yda's hair out of her face and she meets his eyes. He was afraid this would be awkward, having never bathed with someone else before, but it seems to come naturally, as does everything with Yda. The stare at each other for a long time and Papalymo leans up, his hand on her cheek. She pressed her forehead to his and their lips brush. A smirk curls at the corners of her lips.

Yda slams her hands down into the water, the resulting splash soaking both of them and sending Papalymo scrambling off his rock. He nearly drowns before she wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him back above water. She's laughing hysterically but when the shock wears off for Papalymo he is furious.

“Yda!” He screams grabbing her wrist that is around his waist. She pulls him close and then she's kissing him. He melts instantly and she pulls away much too fast.

“Okay!” she exclaims with a sly smirk, “Let's actually get all this dirt off now.”

Papalymo splashes her in the face this time.

 


	22. Chapter 22

Papalymo finds himself spending many an afternoon sitting helping Yda study during their younger years at Sharlayan. She won't let anyone else help her and her ability to fall asleep during any presentation surprises him. But what he finds even more surprising, is that she does have a very strong drive to learn. She wants to succeed — she wants a Sage Mark. She learns faster than he would have imagined, even when it appears she's not paying attention. She likes it when he reads to her while she's practicing her punches. It is endearing really but it is rather annoying she won't pay attention during the day and instead asks for him to help her later.

The air is just starting to warm up and Yda is laid out in the grass. The air smells of sweet flowers and spring. Papalymo asks her another question and she responses, rolling over onto her back next to him and staring at the sky. He glances down at the book in his lap. She didn't need to his help with this test. She knew all the answers. There is a moment of silence.

“Yda. You really don't need that much help with your studies. You would do just fine without me so wy do you keep asking to meet me out here?”

She is making a flowercrown, her knuckles scabbed over and dried blood still under her nails. She hums over his question and he closes his book, ready to leave.

“People doubt me and sometimes, I doubt myself too,” she answers after a moment as she sits up next to him. She sets the flowercrown on top of his head. It is more grass than flowers and it is barely holding itself together.

Papalymo takes her words in. He can accept that. Sharlayan isn't exactly kind to outsiders, and meaner still to those who show any form of talent. They are young and they would grow. Yda would learn that the best way to become confident was to fake it. They lapse again into a silence. The flowercrown she has made is falling apart, leaving petals and grass to dirty Papalymo's robes. Yda leans over and brushes it from his shoulder. He meets her gaze but can't read her face with her mask.

“Thanks, Papalymo,” she whispers, giving him a soft peak on the lips. It takes him by surprise, his ears and face turning red.

“W-w-what was that?!” He stammers, grabbing her arms to hold her at a distance.

Yda chuckles, ruffling his hair and ruining what may have been left of her attempt at a flowercrown, “A kiss! Isn't that what friends do?”

“N-not usually!”

She frowns and crosses her arms, “Well it's what I do! Would you rather I not?”

“Y-you can't just go around kissing people on the lips, Yda!”

She leans close and kisses his forehead before pulling back quickly, smirking. “And, that one was for good luck for my exam tomorrow!” She jumps up, giving him a wave before leaving him alone and in shock.

Papalymo brings his hand up to his lips. What a strange woman. He is somewhat angry that she takes such a motion so casually but he thinks maybe he can learn to deal with it.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my otp involved papalymo/yda/prisusu/skarn all together and happy (no skarn here but)

Papalymo had always prided himself at always knowing exactly what to say. His vocabulary was far more advanced than most and he had graduated top of his class. He was a Archon but his magical skills where only part of it. He was intelligent and arrogant. Advanced topics were like child's play to him and he always made it a point to show people just how much he knew

Yet, even with all of his knowledge, the topic of love had always evaded him. Words got stuck in his throat and his face turned red. He tripped himself up. It was illogical — improper.

And yet he was in love.

“Yda,” he asked, a paper in his hands and he won't look at her, “I-I wrote something. Will you tell me if it's alright?”

She reached out for the page and he placed it in her hands, “What is it?” she asks, glancing down.

“It's for Prisusu,” he mumbled, shifting awkwardly.

A love letter, a poem, and much too gushy for Yda's taste and it makes her want to laugh but he sees the look on his face and she smiles. She was a fast reader and he knew she had already gotten at least halfway done, her eyes following the curls of his fancy handwriting (-the one she knew he only used for special occasions and only when others would be reading it). She held the paper back to him.

“I can't read your handwriting. Read it to me instead.”

His face turned red and she smirked at him, motioning for the two of them to sit down. He knew she was lying but the idea that she wanted to hear what he had written aloud made him dizzy.

“Perhaps you will get two admissions of love out of the deal,” she whispered and he almost didn't hear.

“W-what was that?” He asked quickly.

“If you wanna win a girls heart you have to learn to serenade them!” Yda covered quickly, “Let's hear it and I'll tell you if it will work on Prisusu!”

 


	24. Chapter 24

It all happened in slow motion and Yda barely knows what happened.

“Y-y-your Garlean!”

Yda glances to her turban and mask on the floor, eyes squinted, lip split. A spar gone horribly wrong.

When the Circle of Knowing merged with the Path of the Twelve, they had all gained new companions. And Yda had just wanted to prove to her new comrades that she was capable of being on her own. It, of course, never occurred to her these Scions didn't spar like they had back in Sharlayan. Fighting dirty was nothing new to Yda, but trying to keep a secret hidden when your opponent went for hair and fabric. That was new.

Mumbles rose up from the onlookers. Where is Papalymo? Yda takes a step back. She feels cornered, dirty. She doesn't want to hurt her new associates. That wasn't the point of this. It was just supposed to be a friendly duel.

“She's a spy!” Someone else screams, “A spy in our ranks!”

Chaos breaks out. Several of the newer Scions charge at her. She dodges, barely. Yda blocks, not wanting to hurt anyone but adrenaline is pounding in her veins. Someone is behind her and her nerves are on fire. She throws her head back violently, headbutting them before doing a cartwheel to the side to dodge another attacker.

“She's using her Third Eye! She can sense us!”

Yda's throat is tight but she tries to yell, “Just listen okay?! I'm not—” Someone tackles her and an elbow digs into her ribs. She snarls, jerking her knee up into their gut. He stumbles back — the bright-eyed new recruit she had wanted to spar. She had just wanted to prove herself.

“You won't fool us, Imperial!” He spits at her and she shoves him off of her, stumbling back.

Someone grabs her hair and then there's a fist in her face. She's thrown to the ground, fingers scraping the concrete as she tries to stand. She's shaking, vision blurring. She tastes blood. And she isn't an Imperial, she isn't bad. Yda is a hero; an Archon. Yda would do whatever it took for Eorzea. She stands up, facing off between the group who had pledged themselves to the same cause. She is scared. She feels betrayed — hurt.

“ _Rhalgr take you_! I'm here for the same reason as all of you! Least you forget what this bloody mark means!” She points at her neck, “It's a Sage Mark,” her voice lowers, dripping venomously, “And it means I'm _better_ than you!” A few members of the group slink back, exchanging looks. She's sore, injured and _beyond angry_.

Yda rushes back into the group. She sweeps the legs out from under the first who tries to come at her. Her fist meets the jaw of another and then she turns to the others. She sees fear in their eyes. She hesitates. Her attackers, however, do not. Her breathe is knocked out of her lungs as she is shoved back against the wall and her head falls limp. She won't look at their faces, but she knows they're reeling their fist back. Someone punches her gut; she lurches forward. What feels like the hilt of a sword hits her ribs; she falls. They're ready to kick her when she's down.

Yda hears the door being thrown open. The sound is violent and the ground practically shakes. She hears the sound of staff hitting the stone ground. There is a bright flash of light and her eyes sting. The group stumbles away from her.

“M-master Papalymo!” Someone gasps and Yda pulls herself to her hands and knees. She looks up, forcing herself to give Papalymo a bloody smile. She looks like she's been through all seven hells.

“Y-you're helping her?!” The man she had challenged first growls and he looks ready to attack Papalymo. Yda keeps her eyes on him; should he try to advance on Papalymo, she won't hesitate to take him down. The younger Scion sees her look and understands. With Yda and Papalymo together, the group won't last long. He swallows.

Papalymo takes in the group, eyes scanning them. He can't look at Yda because seeing what they did to her makes him sick and shake with rage. He wants to be able to forgive them when this is all over, but if he has to see Yda right now, he knows he won't be able to.

“I'm sure the Antecedent would _love_ for you all to tell her just what all this commotion was about,” Papalymo snarls, “Need I remind you that you attacked an _Archon_. A Guardian of Eorzea handpicked by Louisoix. Are you accusing him of making a mistake before his body is even cold?” He slams his staff against the ground again, fire skittering across the ground around him, “I highly suggest you _learn your place._ ”

Not even Yda had heard his voice so deadly. His body is quivering and everyone in the room can feel the amount of aether radiating from him. He tries to compose himself; running his hand across his face. He turns to Yda then, walking up to her and kneeling down. The group of Scions rush out of the room, silent and slightly terrified.

“I could have taken them...” Yda mumbles, sitting up. Her words are slurred by her split lip and swollen face. She has a black eye.

“I know, Yda,” he sighs.

He takes in her injuries reaching up to tilt her head to the side. He reaches down to pull up the hem of her shirt. Sides bruised and ribs broken. He lets out a shaky breath. His healing magic can't do much but ease the pain. He reaches out to put a hand to a large bruise. His hand glows green and Yda sighs softly, eyes falling shut.

“I'm sorry,” he says after the pain as eased from her features.

She opens her eyes, “For what?”

“For...not being there. I'm supposed to keep you safe and I didn't.”

She chuckles but it cuts off sharply due to pain. Papalymo uses another spell on a different rib. “Don't be,” she says, watching him, “It isn't your fault.”

“I should have—”

“Shut up, Papalymo, and help me get into a hot bath to clean up this blood.”

He looks up at her, a small smile on his lips. He looks at her, not her Third Eye and that is more than enough.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive had a bad writers block so i farted this out as part of an ask meme on tumblr.

There is rustling, some muffled curses and it peaks Yda’s interest ever so slightly. The Stones have been silent for hours but now there it’s broken. 

“What are you doing?” She glances behind her slightly, unable to see anything but a glimpse of Papalymo attempting to move a stool into the kitchen. Her voice is hoarse. She’s been crying and her eyes are red and her head hurts. 

Papalymo stiffens and looks over his shoulder awkwardly. He smiles at her, but it’s forced. He’s not good at this whole situation. 

“I’m, ah, cleaning the kitchen?” He says with a shrug, looking away from her. 

She narrows her eyes, her mask pushed up to her forehead and disheveled from her earlier breakdown. The rest has left her alone because they knew what Moenbryda meant to Yda. Papalymo, though, had stayed. 

“What’s that smell?” Her nose is starting to clear and it smells sweet, but… slightly off. 

“Nothing!” Papalymo rushes back into the kitchen.

A smile tries to break across Yda’s face and she stands after a moment. Her legs are still but she makes her way to the kitchen. She peeks her head in and sees Papalymo’s robes covered in cake batter and him trying and failing to stir the mixture in a large bowl. She is shocked. 

“Are you… making a cake?”

Papalymo grumbles, “Woman, let me finish!”

“Who’s it for?” She asks, leaning forward to take a finger and taste it. 

A pause. He’s flustered. “No one!”

“Prisusu?” She draws the name out with a smirk. 

Papalymo growls, trying to stir faster, “You! It’s for you, you idiot! I’m trying to make you feel better!”

Yda blinks, her shoulders falling, “Oh,” a long pause as he continues to struggle and then she reaches over to place her hand on his to help stir, “It needs more sugar.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garlean!Yda and slight spoilers for 3.1 / 3.2
> 
> someday i'll write something an actual decent length

The thing about Garleans is that they are born to follow. They will follow their commanders and their Emperor to the ends of time. That is all they know.

And old habits are hard to break. 

“Hey, Papalymo!” Yda calls and she runs up so they can walk side by side. 

He gives her a glance of acknowledgement and the Shroud is quiet. A breeze ruffles the leaves and Yda smiles. 

“We’re going to get Ala Mhigo back, Papalymo.”

“Aye, with your guidance.”

“But…If you were to leave, give up on this fool’s errand, because I know that’s what you think of it, I would follow you, you know.”

Papalymo looks up at her, takes her in, “A fool’s errand is for fools, Yda, and you are no fool.”

And the thing about Garleans is that they all have someone they would follow until the ends of days. Lucia and Livia and even Yda. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluff is really hard for me to write

Papalymo finds himself able to return back to the Rising Stones earlier than he anticipated from his latest trip to Gridania. He arrives home fairly late, but a few days ahead of schedule. He is proud of the time he made and fully plans on bragging about it to Yda. Faster than her last trip. He knew she was slacking!

But that would have to wait. He walks silently to his own room, careful not to wake anyone else. Even the tavern out front had cleared out and closed down for the night and he found their new headquaters quiet, almost as if empty. He shakes that thought from his head and opens the door to his room. He takes note that Yda did his laundry for him while he was gone because he had been a hurry to leave. She hates doing even her own laundry but she is always anxious and more than willing to help when the two of them will be apart. Both of them still find themselves shook up after the Garlean attack. But he is home now and he is safe.

Papalymo puts his clothes away silently, eager to get into bed but while he is putting away his robes he notices one is missing. A very specific one. He frowns. He had worn it just before he had left. He thinks about waiting until morning to bother Yda about it but he also is scared of her trying another one of her pranks with the fairly fancy and expensive robe. It had been a gift and stood out from his others.

A bit irritated and tired, he makes his way to Yda's room. He's ready to yell at her as he opens the door; he is not falling for any of her jokes this time. Last time she did this she found his robes decorating the training dummies and the time before she swapped them with the other scions. Papalymo can only deal with having to go door to door looking for his robes so many times.

To his surprise, though, he finds Yda fast asleep, with the robe in question nestled between her arms.

 


	28. Chapter 28

It takes a lot to wake Yda up. Heavy-sleeper is an understatement, even when they are deep in the Shroud and the fire between them has gone out. She is supposed to be keeping watch but she can afford to close her eyes, she tells herself; they aren't in any danger. Her snores would scare off any beast anyway, Papalymo always tells her and he has gotten used to the sound. She often sneaks into her sleeping roll after Papalymo has fallen asleep when she knows the area poses no threat. He can scold her in the morning.

Papalymo, though, has found it hard to sleep lately. It's the dreams. And he will never admit to anyone how much he blames himself for the attack on the Sand and their capture but he does and it settles in his lungs and claws at his eyelids when he dreams. He tries to wake himself up but the memories are so real. The cries of the murdered and the sound of gunshots. He remembers the cold of the Garlean cell and when they brought Minfilia back her face was swollen and red. They had tried to make him talk, too, of course and he always hid the marks from Yda afterwards. He always made sure they took out the worst of it on him and not Taturu or Minfilia or Urianger.

There's a pride in hiding his emotions, his fear and his shame but tonight he jerks upright, panting. His throat is tight and he is shaking. He isn't sure what is sweat and what is tears. Yda jumps, fists at the ready and practically does a back-flip over to his sleeping roll. Papalymo nearly tumbles backwards, still shaken up and now even more so with her sudden movements but she grabs his arm.

He can't speak, just tries to calm himself. He's still crying.

She hushes him, tugging him close. “More nightmares?”

And he wants to ask her how she knows but she rolls up his sleeve, finding one of his scars he was so proud of hiding. She leans down and kisses it.

“I'll go back there and kill anyone left if that will make you feel better.”

He's still confused about everything, dizzy and stunned but instead he mumbles, “I'm surprised you didn't fall asleep on the job again.”

Yda laughs awkwardly, “I did...”

He looks at her, eyes narrowed.

“I...think it's just your voice...” she admits sheepishly.

There is a long silence and then Papalymo says, “Do you think you keep yourself awake long enough to help me keep watch then?”

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3.5 Spoilers!!
> 
> This will probably be the only chapter in this series to take place after 3.5 (saving that mess for Blood for Blood)

Its Valentione’s Day. Yda pauses in the doorway of Papalymo’s room, chewing her lip. 

The bed is made; messily and not to his standards. He used to always make his bed; perfectly. Yda had tried to match it. She could almost hear him berating her now. When will she ever learn to clean up after herself? Did he really have to teach her everything?

Laying on the bed is a crumpled note — written and rewritten many times. Yda chews at her lip, hand lingering on the doorknob.

> _Look. Papalymo, I’ve never been good with words. That’s your job. But I want you to know, I won’t let what you did be in vain. I promise. This time, I’ll make you proud. I’m done hiding. Done running. And I’m starting with this: I think I love you. I’m not running from that anymore._

Beside the letter is Yda’s mask. Broken, worn and _loved_. As she is. Yda finally shuts the door. Her hair has grown and she leaves the room behind. She leaves the Scions behind. As she walks out of Mor Dhona, she looks up. The sky is bright and it’s not the moon.


End file.
